


Landing

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Other, POV Second Person, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: You get a glass of water.
Relationships: Shaolin Being | Carlos Ortiz’s HK400 Android/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Realistically, it’s not _that_ far from your bed to the water filter by the kitchen sink, but in the dead of night, the distance feels enormous. Still half asleep, you trudge there, because your throat is parched and you _need_ water like you need better dreams. You finally reach your destination, fill your glass, down the sweet, cold contents, and just when you’ve set the empty glass down on the counter, _he_ pops in out of nowhere. You almost jump out of your skin. Maybe your senses are just dulled from sleep, but you didn’t hear him coming. You look at him with wide eyes. 

Shaolin Being reports to you in an hour-appropriate hushed voice, “The house is clean.”

Now that you’ve got your very own android—albeit a severely marked down refurbished one—your house is almost _always_ clean. It’s downright eerie. But you do appreciate it, so you tell him, “Thank you?”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

One of the strangest things about Shaolin is how _sincere_ he looks. Intellectually, you know that he’s a _machine_ , but his expressions are so vivid that you keep forgetting. You can read emotions so easily across his face—even in the dim starlight of your kitchen, you can see he’s eager, hopeful—he’ll do anything you ask. Except the clock by the stove says it’s three in the morning, and you can barely think, let alone issue orders. You lamely counter, “What do you want to do?”

Shaolin’s brow furrows. He doesn’t seem to understand. You give him a few seconds to process it before he answers, “I don’t know.”

You open your mouth, but a yawn snakes out, a long, languid one that makes you dizzy. You seriously need to crawl back into bed. You reach out to him and pat his shoulder, telling him, “That’s your new mission. Figure that out.”

Shaolin parts his plush lips. Maybe he’ll ask for a hint, but you’re not in a position to dictate anyone’s hobbies. You shuffle past him, ending the conversation with another yawn. 

You waddle to bed like a penguin, bury under the covers like a hibernating bear, and you let Shaolin tuck you in, because it makes his smile last just that little bit longer. You’d wish him good luck, but you’re already fast asleep.


End file.
